Quintana of Charyn (10 page)

‘Let’s get this over and done with,’ he said finally. ‘I want us all in
Yata
’s house by the time the sun disappears. Lead the way, Tesadora.’

Tesadora was reluctant, but finally she agreed.

‘I don’t want the girl frightened,’ she said, looking at the Guard. ‘Lucian and Aldron only. The others can stay here.’

They travelled half a mile downstream. It made Lucian wonder how much contact Tesadora had made with the mad girl since they had encountered her the morning Vestie went missing.

‘We don’t even know her name, Tesadora,’ Aldron muttered. ‘If I get a blasting from Finn and Trevanion and Perri over this, I’ll blame you.’

‘Yes, well, I’m trembling at the thought,’ Tesadora said, but Lucian could hear the strangeness in her voice.

They passed the tree where they first found the girl with Vestie. Further downstream, shafts of light forced their way between tall pines. It was here that they found the girl on her haunches, close to one of the trees, with a blanket wrapped around her body that Lucian recognised as one of Tesadora’s. She was scrounging for something in the dirt and he could see that at least she was eating well, looking rounded and full-figured. When she heard the crunch of the pine needles under their feet, she stumbled to stand, her eyes wide with alarm.

Tesadora stepped forward, holding out a hand to quell her fears, but the girl’s eyes fastened on Isaboe. Lucian saw a snarl curling her lips and then heard the bloodcurdling sound. Aldron
stepped forward, a hand to his sword.

‘We won’t hurt you,’ Tesadora called out meaningfully, for Aldron’s ears as much as the girl’s. ‘Step back, Aldron. You’re frightening her.’

Aldron refused to move. The girl seemed poised to lunge.

‘Step back, Aldron.’ Isaboe repeated Tesadora’s words. Reluctantly, Aldron did as he was told. Isaboe approached slowly, tentatively, and the girl stumbled back.

‘Your Majesty!’ Aldron warned. Isaboe held up a hand, stepping closer and closer to the girl. Neither spoke, but there was a tension in the air that unnerved Lucian. He looked at Tesadora and when she refused to meet his eye, he knew something was wrong. And then it happened quickly, the speed of it stunning them all. Isaboe’s hand snaked out and pushed the girl against the closest trunk, her fingers clenched around the Charynite’s throat.

‘Give me your sword, Aldron,’ his queen ordered, her voice so cold.

‘Isaboe,’ Tesadora hissed. ‘Let her go. You’re hurting her.’

‘Aldron,’ Isaboe repeated. ‘Give me your sword.’

‘What’s happening here?’ Lucian demanded. Aldron unsheathed his weapon and placed it in Isaboe’s hand. In an instant his cousin had the blade pressed under the girl’s chin.

‘Isaboe, let her go!’ Tesadora cried, stepping forward, but Aldron held her back.

Lucian couldn’t see Isaboe’s face, but he saw the girl’s expression. With the blade to her neck, she was petrified. He reached out a hand to Isaboe’s shoulder, but she shrugged it away.

‘I was one of five children,’ she said, speaking Charyn to the girl. ‘I want you to know that before you die. I want you to know their names. Evestalina. Rosemond. Jasmina. Balthazar. My mother’s name was Tilda. My father’s name was Carles. On
the day he died, my brother Balthazar got in trouble for lying about breaking a vase in the reading room. My father said he was ashamed of him and so my brother went to his death thinking he had lost the King’s respect.’

Lucian heard her voice break.

‘My sister Rosemond … we called her Rosie, she carved her name on the cherry-tree trunk in my mother’s garden, declaring her love for one of my father’s guards who later died in the prison mines of Sorel. I want you to think of them when you’re choking on your own blood, Quintana of Charyn.’

Lucian’s pulse pounded to hear the name. Aldron stared at him, having no idea of the Queen’s plan.

‘Isaboe!’ Tesadora said, her voice desolate. ‘Do not do this. It will break your spirit.’

With her hand still pressed against the girl’s throat and the weapon still in place, Isaboe looked back at Tesadora.

‘My spirit was broken long ago, Tesadora. And it was broken again yesterday when Vestie told me about your deceit. While I was begging you to come spend time with me, you were playing nursemaid to the daughter of the man who ordered my family’s slaughter.’

Isaboe turned back to the girl. ‘Did you think you could find refuge in my valley, filthy Charynite?’

Tesadora struggled in Aldron’s arms. Lucian knew that nothing would stop the Queen. Wasn’t this exactly what Finnikin and Trevanion and Perri were doing in Charyn? Wasn’t this something they all had sanctioned?

But it was horror Lucian felt when he saw Isaboe raise the blade to strike. The girl’s scream was hoarse and full of rage and fear. The sound of it would ring in Lucian’s ears for days to come. And just as Isaboe went to use the sword, something came flying out at them from the copse of trees.

‘
No!
’

The voice made his knees almost buckle.

Phaedra?

Lucian watched, stunned, as Phaedra threw herself at Isaboe. And then it all happened so fast and he did what he was taught to do in battle … when his queen was under attack. He acted on instinct. Lucian didn’t hesitate. Not for a single moment. His father’s sword was in his hand, pressed against the throat of his wife. He knew he’d kill anyone who was a threat to his queen. He knew he would kill Phaedra of Alonso. But Phaedra was on her knees gripping the blade of Isaboe’s sword and pressing it to her own chest. Lucian could see its sharpness cutting into his wife’s hands. Until they dripped with blood.

‘Kill me,’ she pleaded, her head pressed against Isaboe’s knees. ‘I’m begging, Your Majesty. Kill me. Please. If you want to avenge anyone, kill me. I’m a lastborn and daughter of a Provincaro. Ride through Charyn and take every lastborn girl to exact your revenge. But not her, Your Majesty. Charyn will cease to exist without her. We are nothing without the babe she carries.’

Lucian watched Isaboe shudder. Even Tesadora was speechless at the sight of Phaedra.

‘They don’t stay dead, these Charynites, do they?’ he heard Isaboe say, her voice so foreign to him. Compared to all the battles or deaths or sieges Lucian had ever witnessed, this was different. He swore later that the air changed, that there were spirits at play. That the Charyn gods and the Goddess herself were damning Lucian for the blade he held. Damning them all. And then suddenly Isaboe stepped away, letting go of Quintana of Charyn and pulling free of Phaedra.

‘Get out of my valley,’ Isaboe said. ‘Before I change my mind and slice you in half as your father’s assassin did my mother!’

Lucian lowered his sword and stumbled back. Without
hesitation, Phaedra gripped the girl’s hand and they ran for their lives, disappearing through the trees.

For moments all he heard was the sound of their own ragged breaths, but Lucian knew it wasn’t over yet. Phaedra was alive. He had held a sword to her throat while she knelt, begging for another’s mercy, her hands drenched with blood. He thought that the difference between he and Isaboe was that his love for a Charynite had sometimes made him forget. And he despised himself for it. He had forgotten the way Balthazar had died. His cousins. His aunt. His king and his father.

‘You’re to return home to the cloister in the forest,’ Isaboe ordered Tesadora. ‘I forbid you to come here again. I’ll deal with you in my own time.’

Tesadora gave a humourless laugh.

‘You forbid,’ she mocked. ‘You’ll deal with me? I’m not yours to deal with, little girl. You’re mistaking me for someone else.’

‘Tesadora,’ Lucian warned as she walked away.

‘If you return to this valley, Tesadora, you face the consequences,’ Isaboe said.

‘I stay where I’m needed,’ Tesadora said.

‘She’ll stay with the Monts,’ Lucian said.

‘I stay here!’ Tesadora shouted, turning to face them all, eyes blazing.

Isaboe walked to her. She stood before Tesadora, shaking.

‘Is it the filthy Charynite inside of you that draws you to these people?’ she asked, and Lucian knew there was no turning back from those words.

‘Oh, beloved,’ Tesadora said, both rage and sadness in her voice. ‘Don’t force me to choose.’

‘Choose?’ Isaboe said. ‘Between her and me? You’d choose her?’

Tesadora leant forward and cupped the Queen’s face in both her hands.

‘Blood sings to blood,’ Tesadora said. ‘And yours doesn’t carry a tune.’

Isaboe stumbled back as if she had been struck, and then Tesadora was gone and Lucian could only stare at his cousin. He wished Finnikin were here, because only he could tear that look from her eyes. Lucian had seen him do it. Walk into a room when the images in her head were too powerful to bear. Finnikin would take her in his arms and whisper the words and she’d choke out a cry, but she’d breathe.

Lucian reached out to comfort her, but she stepped away. Being Evanjalin had trained her for years and years not to cry. It’s how she differed from the rest of the Monts. But he could see she was still broken inside.

‘Let’s go,’ he said quietly. ‘I need to get you home to
Yata
.’

 

 

‘
F
roi, put down the dagger!’

‘Finn first. Then we talk.’

Later, Froi thought it would have looked strange to someone who stumbled across them in that clearing. Finnikin with an arm around Gargarin’s neck and a dagger to his throat. Froi with a blade to Finnikin’s back. Trevanion with his sword against the side of Froi’s neck, ready to strike the moment he moved. Froi was dizzy from the confusion and the rage and the despair of it.

‘Froi, put the dagger down!’ Perri ordered.

Froi chanced a look and saw Gargarin’s feet struggling to keep his body upright. Whether it was from pain or helplessness, it stirred Froi’s fury even more.

‘Let him go,’ Lirah cried, struggling in Perri’s grip.

Perri was strong enough to hold Lirah as he stepped forward and pressed the tip of his sword against Froi’s temple.

‘Put it down, Froi. You know I’ll do it,’ Perri threatened softly. ‘You know it.’

Because you don’t let emotion get in the way of what you’re doing.
Isn’t that what Perri had once said?

‘Froi,’ Gargarin said. ‘Put your sword down.’ His voice was hoarse from the pressure of Finnikin’s dagger across his throat. ‘What good are you to us dead?’

‘And what good are you to all of us dead?’ Froi asked in return. Stupid, filthy tears filled his eyes and he felt weak and helpless. He had a blade to his king’s back. His king had a dagger to his father’s throat. The men he respected beyond question were threatening to kill him. Here at this place where Perri had tenderly carried Froi in his arms after they had rescued him from the Charynites more than three years ago.

‘Just put the dagger down, Finn,’ Froi begged. ‘He’s an architect. Nothing more.’

‘An architect of a path soaked in blood.’ Finnikin spat out the words, tightening his hold on Gargarin. ‘That’s all Lumatere is to these people, Froi. A road.’

Gargarin made a sound of regret. ‘I said what the Belegonians wanted to hear,’ he said with bitterness. ‘But you interfered, Lumateran. You interfered and the blood of Charyn is on your hands the moment Belegonia crosses that river.’

‘What have you done to us, Finn?’ Froi demanded.

Froi heard Finnikin’s hiss of fury. ‘Us? Froi, we’re not them. You’re not them.’

‘He’s not who you think, Finn. If you put down the dagger we’ll talk and you’ll hear it all.’

Lirah bit Perri’s hand and tried to struggle free.

‘Don’t hurt her!’ Froi shouted. He didn’t know who to protect first. Where to look.

‘Do you know of this man’s promise to the Belegonians in his correspondence?’ Finnikin demanded. ‘To eliminate Lumatere. To eliminate the people who gave you a home.’

‘You’re mistaken –’

‘
Leave it to me, for I have a plan for Lumatere that will eliminate them as a threat
,’ Finnikin said. ‘His words. Not mine. And how were you planning to do that, Charynite?’ he demanded, holding Gargarin closer to him. ‘March an army through my kingdom and rape my wife and child? It’s all Charynite men know how to do.’

Froi watched Gargarin slump, his head bent in defeat.

‘There are more ways than killing and maiming to eliminate a threat, Your Highness,’ Gargarin said, his voice low. ‘You misunderstood our use of weapon. Not a blade or an arrow, but Froi. We thought we could use him to eliminate Lumatere as a threat. His ties to you. His words.’

How could Finnikin not have understood that?
Froi begged the gods.

‘We offer Lumatere peace, my lord, and you trap the man who can make it possible?’ Froi asked, gutted.

Finnikin was silent but he loosened his grip on Gargarin slightly, and Froi waited, but there was nothing.

‘Finn, I’m begging you. Let him free.’

‘We have evidence that this man was behind the plan to annihilate Lumatere all those years ago,’ Finnikin said.

‘Never,’ Froi said fiercely. ‘I will give my life saying that. It will be the last words I speak and they will haunt you, Finn. Never.’

‘Froi, step away,’ Gargarin said. ‘Put the dagger down. They won’t listen to reason and it will only get you killed. Put it down.’

‘You don’t tell me what to do, Gargarin!’

‘Can you not listen for once?’ Gargarin shouted. ‘If you had listened …’

But Gargarin didn’t finish his words.

‘Say it!’ Froi shouted over Finnikin’s head, not knowing who he hated most. ‘I wouldn’t have lost her. That’s what you wanted to say.’

‘Put the sword down and at least bargain for Lirah’s life,’ Gargarin said.

Finnikin uttered a sound of disbelief.

‘He thinks we’d kill his woman?’ he said. ‘Is that what he thinks we are? Murderers?’

‘You’re holding a dagger to an innocent man’s throat, Finn,’ Froi snapped. ‘He builds cisterns and plans water meadows and waterwheels. You collected all the information, but you got it wrong. Most times we’re right, Perri once told me. This time you’re wrong!’

Froi couldn’t stand the silence. He couldn’t stand to hear the sound of Gargarin’s ragged breath and Lirah’s despair. Just as he was about to lower his weapon, he watched Finnikin release both the dagger and his hold on Gargarin, who crumpled at his feet.

Froi dropped his dagger and Lirah was suddenly beside them, holding the staff, helping Gargarin to his feet. Somehow they managed to separate into two groups with space between them. Despite the absence of swords and daggers, the atmosphere was tense. Perri’s stare was fixed on Gargarin.

‘Where do I know you from?’ he demanded.

‘You don’t know him,’ Froi said, tiredly. ‘Just leave it, Perri. He doesn’t understand what you’re saying.’

Perri’s hand snaked out and gripped Froi by the throat, pulling him close. ‘Speak Lumateran, Froi! Or have you forgotten how to?’

And Froi felt a shame beyond reason. It made him despise the Charynite tongue to know it had such control. All this time, he hadn’t spoken a word of Lumateran.

Perri didn’t let go. ‘Since when do you hold a weapon to your king’s throat?’ he raged quietly. ‘Since when do you disappear for so long and take up with an enemy of Lumatere?’

Froi pulled free, viciously. ‘Since you sent me into Charyn to create holy hell. Isn’t that what you’d call it, Perri? Because this is hell enough for me!’

He walked away, trying to think. All this meant was that he was even further away from finding Quintana and their child.

‘How did you manage to get the Belegonian letters?’ he demanded, swinging back to face them.

Finnikin didn’t respond.

‘How?’

‘We have … a spy.’

Finnikin refused to meet his eye.

‘A spy? In Belegonia?’ Froi was confused and then it registered.

‘Celie? Our Celie? You put her life in danger? Isaboe would never have allowed that!’

Finnikin was suddenly advancing on him. ‘Oh, really? You know what my wife would allow, do you? An expert on all things Isaboe?’

Finnikin was deadly in one of these moods.

‘I know Isaboe well enough,’ Froi said. ‘She would –’

Finnikin flew at him, knocking Froi down. Froi shoved him back and they wrestled, rolling in the dirt towards where the others stood.

‘Are you going to stop them?’ he heard Gargarin ask Trevanion and Perri.

‘This has little to do with palace business,’ Perri responded almost politely in poor Charyn.

‘Step back, madam,’ Trevanion ordered Lirah. ‘You’ll get hurt.’

Froi hesitated, thinking how ludicrous it all sounded. Finnikin took the opportunity to straddle him, holding Froi down to the ground.

‘You want to ask about my wife?’ Finnikin demanded. ‘What would you have me tell you, Froi? You probably know more about her than I do. Her little confidant.’

Froi popped him in the nose with his fist and the next moment he was on top, and Finnikin was struggling to break free.

‘It’s the word “little” I take offence to, my lord,’ he said. ‘I think I’m the taller one now. Perhaps we can have Isaboe decide.’

Finnikin’s elbow caught Froi in the eye and he fell back before Finnikin dived on top of him.

‘What else did she tell you?’ Finnikin hissed. ‘What else has she confided in you that she couldn’t tell me?’

Froi shrugged free. ‘Are you insane?’

He was on his feet, shaking his head with disbelief. ‘What have you done, Finn?’

Finnikin leapt up seconds later, and they stood nose to nose.

‘What else, apart from her time in Sorel, did she trust you with and not me?’

Finnikin shoved him hard for an answer. Froi shoved him back.

‘Do you really want to know?’ Froi goaded, fury lacing his voice. ‘She spoke to me of love and obsession and the way the Goddess can weave ties between human hearts that burn with every touch.’

Finnikin roared and charged for him, but Froi leapt up onto one of the branches, shoving a boot into Finnikin’s face.

‘She trusted me with the knowledge that loving the way she loved frightened her beyond imagining.’

Finnikin gripped at his boot and Froi tumbled, landing back on the ground with Finnikin pressing his face into the dirt. Froi crawled free.

‘She trusted me with the knowledge that her people think she’s the bravest Queen who ever lived, but she fears she doesn’t
know who she is without the man she worships,’ Froi continued. ‘She fears that if something happened to him she’d lie in her bed and never ever get up.’

Froi scrambled to his feet and soon enough they were standing before each other, so unlike the time in training back in the meadow before Froi had travelled to Charyn.

‘When she was carrying Jasmina in her belly she trusted me with the knowledge that she feared she wouldn’t love her child as much as she loved her king,’ Froi continued. ‘She told me about her slavery in Sorel because she had to speak to someone about her shame. If anyone understood that sort of shame it was me … and her king. But she couldn’t tell her king because their curse was that he had to share her pain twofold and she will never forgive herself for putting him through that.’

Froi threw a punch and it knocked Finnikin down.

‘And do you know what else we spoke about? Not that she doesn’t believe that her consort is a man of worth because he is less titled than his wife, but that her consort doesn’t believe he is worthy. You have no idea what that does to her, you fool. Because you’re too busy being proud. What an indulgent luxury pride is,’ he raged. ‘I would give my life to be the consort to the woman I love. I’d give my life to be her footman! Her servant. Any chance to stand close enough to protect her. Yet your queen asks you to sit on the throne by her side and it’s all too degrading for you. You fool,’ Froi said bitterly. ‘You will drive her away.’

There was no satisfaction in Froi’s victory. After a moment they both looked over to where Trevanion, Perri, Gargarin and Lirah were watching dispassionately. Froi suddenly felt like a child. Under the same stares, Finnikin fidgeted uncomfortably beside him.

‘Finished?’ Trevanion asked.

No one responded.

‘We head home,’ the Captain said. ‘You ride with me, Froi. And you better be speaking the truth about this man’s innocence. You’re going to have to face the Queen about the decision we made to let him go.’

They were the last words Froi wanted to hear.

‘I’m staying,’ he said quietly.

Finnikin turned to stare at him, but didn’t say a word.

‘Get on the horse, Froi,’ Perri ordered.

Froi shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me to do that. For now, I need to stay here.’

Finnikin still hadn’t spoken and Froi waited, wanting a word, a gesture. From his king. His friend.

‘You’re making a choice here, Froi,’ Trevanion said. ‘Charyn or Lumatere?’

Froi couldn’t fight the anguish he was feeling. ‘Why does there have to be a choice?’ he asked.

Finnikin made a sound of disbelief and Froi felt as if he was with strangers.

‘How can you even ask that?’ Finnikin said, mounting his horse and riding away.

And on that night, Finnikin travelled with a heavy heart, his thoughts on his childhood friend, Balthazar. Because the loyal friendship he had shared with Froi had become just as fierce over the years. Lucian would have agreed. Froi reminded them both of how they had been before Balthazar’s death. They were more carefree in his presence. Content. But all that was gone now.

‘They’re not safe here,’ Trevanion muttered when they reached the border. ‘There’s an army camped somewhere close back there. Probably for one of them.’

‘Not our problem,’ Finnikin said, steering his horse towards
the river that would take them across to Osteria and then home.

‘Froi made his choice. He’s dead to Lumatere.’

And I’m shaking with Phaedra as we climb to the cave, Froi. Our skin is still fastened by blood that is hers. And the women are stunned and all asking questions, but the fool girl just cries and let goes of my hand. And she weeps and she weeps so I lay by her side and I whisper the order, ‘We’ll kill them together.’ Phaedra reaches a hand to her cheek and I see that it’s pressed where the Mont’s blade had pierced her. And I can see in her eyes that she’s almost convinced. The next time we meet them, it’s the bitch Queen who weeps.